


The Steward's Daughter

by Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw



Series: February Ficlet Challenge 2018 [27]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-25 02:16:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13824372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw/pseuds/Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw
Summary: In which the world's worst princess meets the world's worst knight.Pairing: Kate Stewart/Petronella OsgoodPrompt: Fairytale AU





	The Steward's Daughter

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by imaginary_golux

Kate hated her father.

Well. It would be more accurate to say she hated the baggage that came with being the daughter of the king's steward and chief military advisor, the man third in rank to only the king and his son. She had been married young, dutifully borne her husband an heir and a spare and a fine daughter to boot, only for her husband to die, leaving her back in the care of her father at forty-one. Forty-one!

"I didn't know it was possible to distill furiously," quipped Jac, her lady-in-waiting. "Yet you surprise me as always."

Kate put her phial down nearly hard enough to shatter it. "I have half a mind to pack a bag, steal a horse, and be gone." She stoppered the phial as though she bore it a grudge. "This life grates on me, my children are grown, and--"

"Remind me which of us you are trying to convince?" Jac asked, amused. Kate's jaw dropped. "I can cover for you for six hours. Go!"

Kate grinned as she stole away, taking some clothes, food, a sword, and a few other things.

***

Osgood loved her father.

But she was the youngest of three daughters, and the plainest, and her father had remarried, and that meant no end of trouble for her if she stayed. Cinderella if she was lucky, Goose Girl if she wasn’t. So it was out of the house with no notice at eighteen, just old enough to enlist at the Royal Military Academy: the only place that would take someone with no money and no connections and teach them magic.

As long as they were male, at least. Osgood had always hated her first name anyway, so changing it and her hair was hardly a sacrifice. So she enlisted, and studied, and became more handy than she (or her weak lungs) cared to with a sword. 

She completed her studies with aplomb--that was a mere matter of concentration, after all--and rode as a squire for two years, and finally was knighted at twenty-six with none the wiser just in time for the news: the Lord Steward’s daughter had gone missing, with her hand offered in marriage to the knight who could retrieve her. 

To Osgood’s surprise, this offer did not meet with much excitement from her fellow knights. “And why should it?” one of them scoffed. “She’s rich enough, aye, but she’s a widow on the wrong end of forty. Ask me again fifteen years ago, maybe.”

“True enough,” added another, sipping his lager. “And a mind of her own, worse yet.” He punctuated his remark with a belch.

“Not that that’s all bad,” contemplated yet a third, “But she’s no love for men, and like as not to leave you at the altar. I reckon she’s run off.”

“All the same, someone should go after her,” Osgood persisted.

“Better you’n me, Osgood,” the first knight clapped her on the shoulder. “Anyway, I’m happily married already, but god speed you.”

Osgood mulled over this fresh intelligence over the dregs of her mug. She had had occasion to see the Steward’s daughter a few times when her duties had brought her to the castle. She was a fair handsome woman, and she had rallied the castle’s defenses against a siege quite impressively. Osgood had little personal knowledge of her, but Kate’s reputation held her out as a sharp wit and a quick intellect. And she liked to garden, if you like that sort of thing. (Osgood didn’t, beyond an interest in the study of genetics and botany.) And if nothing else, a rich wife that didn’t care for men might be as well as she could do.

***

Osgood rode west, that being as good a direction as any. Or at least she started out going west, for the paths in the forest were a gnarled mess, and she was quite disoriented ere long. Still, she pressed on until she came to a grey old man, perched on a stump, strumming a guitar on the side of the road. “Have you anything to eat?” he asked. He was rangy and wore a battered, dark blue velvet coat. “Anything to spare for a poor vagabond?”

Osgood knew at once that this was not the sort of question one says ‘no’ to, and produced such rations as she had, sharing them out between herself and the old man, who introduced himself as the Doctor. “Can I do anything else for you, sir?”

“No, you’ve been most hospitable.” He brushed the crumbs from his slacks. “You’re on a quest, I can tell.”

“How did--?”

“Your horse told me.” He winked at her. “Anyway, take the left fork up ahead, and be kind.”

“Is that all?” Osgood blurted out. “Sorry, I’m not complaining. It’s just, you know, usually these things involve recruiting talking animals or answering riddles or something.”

“Oh. Well, if you have any trouble, the key is under the flowerpot to the left of the door, but I’m sure you would have found that anyway. So, off you trot!” Osgood’s horse whinnied. “Well, I suppose it is a nice day for a gallop, if you’re inclined. Oh, and be kind! That should be enough to see you off.” And with no further words, but a strange whooshing sound, the old man was quite gone.

“So, gallop, huh?” Her horse nodded to her. “Let’s go, then.” Osgood took off at a lovely fast clip, sticking to the left, and soon she was through the forest and at a little cottage in a clearing. 

“Hello?” Osgood rapped at the door. 

“Who is it? Mind you, I’m armed.”

Osgood grinned. “I’m here to rescue you, though it rather seems that I’m not needed. Unless these geraniums are menacing you, ma’am.” 

A snort of laughter issued from within. “Come in then, though I warn you I’m not much of a princess.”

“Well, as it happens, I’m not much of a knight.” 

“Tea?”

“Please.” This was going to be a lovely afternoon, Osgood decided.


End file.
